


Shadow Hunter’s Bride

by AuroraNoirInStardust



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Attempted Sexual Assault, Biting, Blood Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, More tags to be added, Not gunna promise no pregnancy because lets be honest it’s me, Snoke is a creepy MFer, Soulmates, Think Game of Thrones-esque, Vampire Sex, Vampires!, and general vampire gore and nonsense, because Vampires, because it’s kind of an arranged marriage?, blindfolded sex, magic!, mention of previous sexual experience by a main character, probably some murder, soulmark, vampire shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25544008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNoirInStardust/pseuds/AuroraNoirInStardust
Summary: The decree had gone out again throughout the kingdom.Two years ago, Emperor Snoke had called for men to serve as his personal guards and become the dark Knights of Ren. Then there came the call for girls—women to be joined to the Knights.None of the young men or women who made the trek up to the palace were heard from again.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 48
Kudos: 125
Collections: A Picture is worth 1000 Words - PL Summer Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeLight/gifts).



> I saw you had a vampire moodie and I couldn’t resist! And then I tried to make this a variation on Cupid and Psyche... but with vampires... and then it went off in a new direction and it’s weird and just a little dark and not my usual. And then again, exactly my usual? I don’t know. But I’m excited and I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to [kaybohls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybohls/pseuds/kaybohls) for betaing this and talking through the idea with me.

The decree had gone out again throughout the kingdom. 

Two years ago, after the Grand Emperor Snoke had claimed the realm, the very first decree went out. That time it had called for young men, boys on the cusp of manhood who showed strength and ambition. Then, it had called for young men, boys on the cusp of manhood. Those who showed strength, ambition, and were fearless in the face of danger. Some volunteered, thinking it a right of passage, that their skill in battle would win them favor with the new ruler. Others were chosen by the Emperor himself, required to participate on pain of execution. 

Those boys were put to the test in an arena in front of the Emperor, fighting to the death in a barbaric show like gladiators of old. The victors, bathed in the blood of their opponents, were crowned with laurels, cleansed with sacred water and fragrant oils, and served a decadent feast. Then they were paraded through the streets up to the palace on the hill. 

Seven men were crowned victorious that day. Seven men were carried up the winding path to the palace on the shoulders of the people, hailed as heroes.

They were never heard from again. 

Rumor was that those seven men were turned by dark magic into monsters—half human, half beast—to be the guards of the emperor. The Knights of Ren, beastly warriors clad in black armor that seemed to hide no man’s form, who could be seen patrolling the temple by night. To the people of the realm, rumor and gossip gave the knights other names. Names used at bedtime to frighten children into obeying their elders. Shadow Hunters. Night Terrors. Darkness Demons. They remained shrouded in mystery. The rumor mongers wove stories, saying they hunted by night alone and gained strength by drinking the blood of their enemies. 

The rumors were fed by the new edict that came out a few months after the men had been taken. That time, the Emperor was requesting girls, young women of marriageable age, virginal, and unattached. All the eligible women were to gather at the square at dusk. As night fell, the Emperor would emerge and select a girl personally from the crowd. Emperor Snoke claimed it was an honor to be chosen. The girl was dubbed a bride, to be given to one of the brave Knights of Ren. They were dressed in a gown of white linen and crowned with a wreath of crimson flowers over their veil. Up they were paraded to the palace, just like the men from that fateful day. And with every proclamation, with every new young “bride” that was selected from the kingdom, the cortege dimmed from the jubilation of a wedding processional to the solemnity of a funeral dirge. For just like the men, the girls never returned. 

And now the call had gone out again for another Bride of Darkness to be chosen, for one young woman to make the long trek up the winding path to a fate unknown. 

This time, having turned eighteen, instead of watching from the crowd, Rey was to take part. She donned her best dress—a simple chiton of forest green—pinned up her hair, and washed her face. Rey had no baubles or rich silks to adorn herself with like the daughters of nobles and merchants of prestige, and even if she possessed such finery, she saw little point in it. The tributaries carried none of their personal possessions with them. If chosen, she’d be bathed in the bathhouse by the elders, have her face painted and her skin rubbed with oils. She’d bare no jewels or silks. Instead she’d walk up the hill with bare feet and hands, dressed in the ceremonial white gown, a delicate veil, and a crown of blood-red flowers to go meet her fate. 

But Rey knew she’d not be chosen when the Emperor emerged from his obsidian carriage to ogle and scrutinize each young woman until he chose the one most worthy to become a Shadow Hunter’s bride. Every girl who had been picked so far had been from a family of renown, with hefty dowries to pay in tribute to the Emperor. She had no name or titles or fortune to levy. She was a nothing. A no one. An orphan with precious little to call her own. 

Nor was she physically the type that the Emperor seemed to favor for these tributes. She lacked the gold or copper hair and alabaster skin of all the finer girls, with her chestnut locks and complexion tanned and freckled from the sun. Thin as her frame was, she was not without the subtle curves of femininity that came with the ripeness of womanhood. However, she lacked the voluptuous figure that men favored and that the Emperor eyed with a lascivious gaze that made her skin crawl. 

To her, it mattered not if she was chosen or left. She’d watched her heart walk up that hill two years ago with six other brave men, and though she’d seen herself the ominous and shadowy Knights in silhouette on the palace’s parapet, she knew the boy she loved was gone. She held out hope, bolstered by the steady pulse of a rare and unique soul bond they shared. But several months after they were taken, right before the first edict requiring young women had come, she’d felt his heart stop beating and their pulse go silent. It had felt as if her soul had cracked in two that day, that her own heart had been ripped from her chest, and ever since she’d been but a shadow of herself. If it took becoming the sacrificial lamb in some ritual to perhaps discover what had happened to her soulmate, she’d meet her fate with open arms. If not, she’d continue to live her life the empty shell the loss of her soul’s mate had made her. 

The sun hit the horizon and the sky streaked with brilliant shades of orange and pink. The black carriage soon came rolling down from the Palace on high, pulled by magic, without the aid of horses. It paused on the fringes of the city square and soon the lamps were lit to illuminate the stone plaza. Each woman gathered for perusal was given a candle, as to make their faces more visible. But they were told it was a symbol; they were to be the “light” for the dark Knights.

To make his selection, Emperor Snoke blew out the candle of the girl. The irony of their light being extinguished was not lost on Rey. 

The stars soon began to appear in the sky, the pale moonlight adding to the ethereal glow of the candles and flickering lamplight as the eerie creak of the carriage door opening pierced the night. 

The Emperor, clad in his signature golden robes, emerged from the coach, flanked on either side by a common palace guard dressed all in red. He stood unnaturally tall and his face was marred and scarred, and of a pallor that reminded Rey more of a corpse than a living man. He almost seemed to glide when he moved, smooth and alien in the moonlight. Drifting toward the girls, he slid down the line, sizing each girl up as he crossed in front of them. Rey felt his eyes on her as he stood before her and, perhaps it was her imagination, but it felt as though he lingered on her longer than on the other girls. She held her head a little higher, daring to look him in the eyes. Giving her an almost serpentine smile, she almost felt the cold gaze of his deep blue eyes drink her in. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but she swore she saw a flash of gold overtake the blue before his eyes left her and he moved on down the line. Once he reached the end, he moved to stand before them, turning to the crowd. 

“So many lovely ladies tonight,” he started, his voice a strange gravel that sent a shiver straight up Rey’s spine. “This shall be a difficult choice indeed.” 

Months ago, when the selection of the girls first began, he’d given a speech. He’d explained about how the Knights were needing companionship and the warmth of a woman’s touch. That he would examine the girls one by one to find the one most fitting to be joined to a warrior. That he could make his choice after seeing the first girl or after hours of scrutiny of each one. That it was an honor to make such a sacrifice, that they should obey their new lords in every way, even to the point giving their lives should it be asked of them. To disobey was to dishonor her family and her kingdom, and there would be punishment for insolence. 

He said nothing of the sort now. Merely nodded to the crowds and then turned back to the line of women, indicating for the girl on the far end to step forward. 

He never spoke much to any of the girls. He’d ask their name, their age. Perhaps inquire as to their family’s station. But nothing more. This selection was almost solely aesthetic, hence the fine dresses and jewels most of the girls were wearing. Even if the woman herself was terrified, most of the elders saw this as the honor the Emperor painted it as, and dressed any young women in their family eligible for selection accordingly. He’d admire their finely painted faces and their baubles, and see how they filled out their gowns. It filled Rey with a deep sense of repulsion, the way he gaped and leered. She could swear that he would occasionally smell the inside of their wrists or even their necks if he got close enough. 

He arrived at the girl to Rey’s left, a pretty little thing, her candle shaking in her trembling hands as she fought back tears. Snoke twisted a golden ringlet of her hair around his finger, humming in approval as he looked her over.

“And your name, child?”

“Sa-Sabrine, my lord,” the poor girl stuttered. 

He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of it. “How old are you, Sabrine?”

“I've just turned nineteen,” she said, her voice breathy. 

He turned her wrist up and—yes, he did smell her. A deep inhale that was impossible to miss. His eyes seemed to light up then and his smile grew brighter. He dropped her hand and then took a step back. With a snap, Sabrine’s candle went out. 

“Congratulations, dear child,” he said in that sickly sweet tone. 

Sabrine’s knees gave out as the tears she had been holding back poured forth with a sob. Rey reached out to catch her as she crumpled, bending to comfort her. As she shushed and tried to soothe the girl, she sensed the Emperor pause and felt his stare upon her. A cold, long-fingered hand grasped at her upper arm, wrenching her away from the tribute. He brought her all but flush to him, his eyes focusing on a spot on her deltoid. His thumb rubbed along the raised, wine-stain mark on her skin and she sucked in a breath at the sting.

“I’d express my condolences,” he drawled, dropping her arm, “but we asked for unattached and untouched girls, child.”

“I am a maid, my lord,” Rey stated. He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look of disbelief. “I am,” she asserted. “A boy kissed me once, but it went no further.”

“Yet you bare a soulmark.” He spoke as if unconvinced of her innocence, with an arrogance that made her feel like she was being scolded like an insolent child. “And as it’s scabbed but unhealed, I assume his death was perhaps a few weeks ago, at most.”

Her hand reached up to caress the mark as she shook her head, trying to suppress the anger bubbling at the surface at the memory of the way he’d been ripped from her life. “It has been nearly two years.”

“You lie; the wound is too fresh.” He bated her hand away to re-examine the mark before looking her in the eye. “And even so, a soulmarked virgin is as good as a widow, so marked by another. You are not welcome in this selection.” He let go of her arm and turned to begin walking towards his carriage.

“He died in your service, my lord,” she spat out, unable to hold back. “He was one of the seven victors of the first edict. He promised to return to me, that he would marry me. Then a few months after he was taken, I felt his heart stop and my mark ran with blood. It’s not healed since that day.”

The Emperor paused for a moment, head turning slowly to look her in the eyes. Again, a golden glint seemed to shine there, and goosebumps sprang up along Rey’s skin. “Is that so?” he said, a slow, devilish smile curling his misshapen lips. “Perhaps an exception can be made.” And with a flick of his wrist, the candle Rey was holding went out.

A gasp arose from the crowd. Rey stared in disbelief at the smoking wick, the hot wax dripping down and coating her fingers. Yet, she felt neither the sting of the burn nor the guard’s hand as it grasped her by the arm. It wasn’t until she heard Snoke speak again that she came out of her daze.

“A blessed night! Two brides to grace the halls of the palace and the bed of a Knight, including this poor soulmarked widow maiden, who I’m sure shall find new purpose in this humble sacrifice.”

~~***~~

Rey and Sabrine were taken to the bathhouse, where elders helped them wash in a tub filled with fragrant water. They rubbed richly scented oils into their arms, legs, and naked torsos, so the moonlight shone off their skin. Kohl lined their eyes and stain gave an artificial flush to their lips and cheeks. The ceremonial white dress, tied with a rope spun with golden thread, was twisted in an intricate pattern about them, and a long veil—as fine and transparent as butterfly wings—was pinned into their hair. Then the crown of crimson flowers, like a circlet of blood against the white of the rest of their outfits, was carefully placed on each of their heads.

Sabrine quaked throughout the whole process, tears streaking the kohl smudged around her eyes, her whimpering cries resounding in the room as the elders tried to comfort her. Rey, on the other hand, remained silent and stoic. Her fingers ran along the wound of her soulmark, the two lines that looked so much like two hands outstretched to each other, and tried to understand what about the Emperor learning of her mark and it’s history that had made him choose her as a second tributary. Out of sympathy for her situation was not a likely cause, however he had framed her selection. Taking young men and women away from their loved ones was not the trait of a kind heart. 

The walk along the path to the palace was somber, with torches held by the families of the tributes illuminating the road. However, Rey had no parents or siblings to light her way so while Sabrine’s walk was bright, Rey found her way by the light of the moon. 

Upon reaching the gates, the other girl was given a moment to bid her family farewell. Rey offered Sabrine her arm after she was done. She clung to her, her fingers clutching so hard her nails dug into Rey’s skin. Together they were ushered past the iron and stone of the outer walls of the palace and up the marble steps to the grand hall. 

The room was vast and lit with dozens of candelabras, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows that seemed to move and dance between the hanging tapestries and the alcoves that lined the walls. The phantom feeling of eyes watching her pickled at the back of her mind, giving her goosebumps. She shivered, though the night was warm and held no breeze. 

The Emperor beckoned Sabrine forward. With silent tears streaming down her cheeks, she took the few shaky steps to him, leaving Rey alone to watch their exchange. The Emperor lifted the flower wreath from her head and then her veil, the mimicry of a wedding ceremony where the bride is finally revealed to her groom turning Rey’s stomach as she watched him trace a long, twisted finger down Sabrine’s face to tilt her head up to him.

“Fear not, for soon you shall find your sorrow and loneliness leave you, and you shall be rewarded with a kind of solace in your new lord’s arms.”

He then placed a ring on the girl’s finger, an emerald gleaming on the gold band. A delicate mask of the same colors covered her face, leaving only her lips uncovered. He then dropped the veil back over her face and placed a signet, again of gold and emeralds, in place of the flowers.

“Kato Ren is now your lord and husband,” he spoke, motioning for one of the red armored guards to come forth. “You shall please him well.”

Sabrine turned to Rey and a small hint of a smile turned her mouth. The guard took her by the hands and led the girl to the end of the room and into a dark hallway. 

“And you, child,” the Emperor continued once the footfalls of Sabrine and her escort had faded. He walked towards her, more guards in tow. Rey closed her eyes and shuddered as he reached for the wreath of flowers to remove from her head. He lifted the veil from her face and she let her eyes rise to his, lest he felt the need to caress her face as he had Sabrine’s. “Finding you was quite serendipitous indeed. I do believe you’ll find answers to the questions that have plagued your mind and your heart in these halls.” He reached out his hand and the guard presented a ring to him, which he slipped on Rey’s finger. The twisted band of black and silver seemed to shrink to mold to her finger. She felt it tighten as it settled there, a ruby gleaming up at her as she stared at it in wonder. “But I must remind you, you are now wed to the leader of the Knights. Your new husband shall visit your bedchamber tonight, and I expect you to obey his every desire.” 

Rey lifted her head again, meeting his eye. “And if I do not?” she dared him with a tilt of her head. 

The Emperor let out a short, bitter laugh as he took a step closer to her, his deformed face now inches from hers. “I suggest you relent,” he said quietly, the implication of danger just below the surface of his words. He then reached out and began to remove the pins holding her veil in place. It rippled to the floor as the Emperor replaced it with a signet matching her ring, twisted silver and black metal adorned with rubies. “These men thrive in the hunt, dear girl. If you fight, they may unleash the beast within, and let’s just say they are not known for their gentleness.”

A guard handed him the mask. He turned it over in his hands before he held it out in front of her eyes, a sickening twist of his lips making a pit form deep in her belly.

“For you, child, something a bit different.” And he snapped his fingers. The mask materialized into a thick length of black silk, which was then placed over her eyes as a blindfold, making her gasp aloud. She felt hands—cold, thin, and frighteningly strong—clasp her shoulders and begin to steer her toward what she assumed was the hallway in which Sabrine had been taken. As they moved there was a rasping whisper in her ear, the feeling of breath on her skin making her bite back the bile that rose in her throat, “You now belong to Kylo Ren.”

A small shove released her and she stumbled forward, blinded by the swath of black over her eyes. Deprived of the rest of her senses, Rey’s hearing sharpened. From behind her, she heard the Emperor speak in hushed tones, assumingly to the guard who would take her away: ’“Lead her to Kylo’s chambers. Tell him, as usual, he may play with his food as much as he wishes, but he is to finish it this time. Or there shall be dire consequences.”

Then a hand was at her back and she was being ushered forward. The hallway was cold and she shivered as icy drafts stirred her skirts. They climbed up a spiral staircase, dizzying and disorienting without her sight and then walked a few minutes more. At last, a hand was held out to stop her. She heard a creak of a door opening and a hand grabbed her wrists and pulled her inside. 

There was not much of a temperature change in the chambers, but she could tell, though the diffusion of the light through the silk, that the room was lit. She was pulled forward still, feeling the stone change to something softer beneath her feet: fur, perhaps? She could hear the crackling of a fire, presumably in the hearth, and felt warmth at last. Then something soft hit her at mid-thigh level. 

“On the bed,” came the command from the guard, the first words he’d said to her since leaving the great hall.

She turned her head in the direction of the voice and then there was a shove that nearly toppled her over. Bracing herself with her hands on the bedspread, she felt her way to sitting. The bed felt vast, but warm and comfortable, the fabric beneath her fingers soothing at its softness. Leather grasped her wrists and wrenched them above her head, dragging her up. She let out a cry, fighting against the hands, but it was no use. A rough rope bound her wrists together, pulling them high on the frame and tying them there. 

“What are you doing?” she yelled, pulling hard against her restraints. “Untie me!”

“So you cannot run,” said the guard in a cold, almost mechanical tone. Then a length of cloth covered her mouth, sliding between her lips and teeth as it was tied tightly behind her head. “So you cannot scream.”

Rey bit at the gag, rolling her tongue over it to try to loosen it. Saliva collected at the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin. Struggling still against her restraints, she pulled and twisted, but it seemed to only clench down tighter against her wrists until her fingers began to grow numb and her arms ached.

The bed shifted and she felt the weight of the guard press closer to her. “You make such a pretty picture, bound and gagged, waiting to be fucked and claimed.” Rey felt a leather-clad finger caress her cheek. “Seems hardly fair the Knights get the prettiest ones.” She wanted to scream, but it just came out a garbled sound as she thrashed her head away from the unwanted touch. 

Suddenly, there was a sound almost like a boom and a rush of cold air filled the chambers. She could feel the fire in the hearth go out, the candles that had given a golden glow that permeated the silk blindfold must have blown out too. The world about her plunged into darkness. The guard’s hand withdrew from her and she felt the shift of him scrambling away. She heard her own gasping breath and pounding heart, the frightened and tight intakes of breath from the guard. And then another sound. A low, feral growl that grew until it morphed and twisted into a dark laugh.

And then a voice. Deep and dangerous. Sounding more like the snarl of a beast than the timbre of a man: “I do believe you were touching that which is mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lay the entire heated length of his body atop her, one hand slipping beneath her, the other trailing up and down her side. He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice desperately pleading, _“Who are you?”_
> 
> “No one,” Rey breathed out.
> 
> “No,” he stated, pressing his lips to hers for a simple kiss that lingered. He shifted, and she felt him reach down to undo the tie at his waist. “You are the wife of Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and a day. Oops. 
> 
> A special loving thank you to my beta [kaybohls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybohls/pseuds/kaybohls) for kicking my butt and _lovingly_ picking me apart to make me a better writer. 
> 
> Tags will be changing as the plot fully forms with details, so please read and take note.

_ That voice. _

Deeper than should be humanly possible. Beastly and dark. It vibrated in Rey’s chest and rushed through her body like venom from an adder’s bite, settling deep in her belly. A rolling, sinister laugh echoed through the chamber, followed by the sounds of choking coming from her left. A sickening crunch of flesh and bone proceeded a heavy thud and the metallic smell of blood. 

And then silence. 

She should be afraid. The rational part of Rey’s brain knew that she should be terrified, pleading for her life, begging the beast at her door to either spare her life or make swift work of his kill. But something in that voice—something she couldn’t quite place—told her that she had no reason to fear. Not truly. It was as if her tongue was tasting the melody of a song she swore she knew, but the name eluded her. Something in that voice  _ soothed _ her.  _ Comforted her _ . Perhaps even excited her in a way that she hadn’t known in over two years.

She could hear labored breathing cutting through the silence and the heavy sound of bare feet upon stone coming closer. Her heart pounded against her chest, harder with every step. And then the footsteps paused. She strained her ears, listening for breath. Her skin prickled with phantom sensations, trying to detect the warmth of a body or the heat of this stranger’s gaze upon her. 

Instead, she heard drinking. Deep gulps from a seemingly endless cup. Groans and sated moans. Then footsteps began again. 

Rey felt the bed sink when a weighted presence sat beside her. The lightest brush of fingertips grazed her bare knee, where her dress had bunched up in her struggle, and it traveled slowly up her body, trailing her thigh, her hip, finding a path up her abdomen to ride the valley between her breasts. Her breath almost followed that hand, seemingly breathing from where calloused fingertips touched and caressed her body. Strange, hypnotic energy sparked wherever they connected, blazing a trail of fire on her skin. She squirmed as the tingles extended to her fingers and toes, warming her being and lighting a small flame low in her belly. 

Noticing the hand traversing her body was  _ massive _ only added kindling to the flame. It trailed up her neck to cradle her head, large fingers sinking into her hair and the thumb of that hand stroked to trace her jawline. It found the gag and hooked into the fabric, gently easing it out of her mouth. Her jaw rolled instinctively, working the sting out of the joint before that thumb found her lips. 

Slowly, it followed the outline of them, tracing her mouth, leaving something warm and wet in its wake. Gliding in the thick liquid, the digit applied pressure to the center of her bottom lip, forcing her mouth to part and eliciting a gasp from her. It then slid from her lips, and she felt the hot rush of it swelling from the attention. 

“Pretty little one,” the beast—the owner of those hands that caressed her with such care—said, again in an almost inhuman gravel. “None of the others pleased me. But you. Something about you—”

When he placed his lips to hers, the gentleness of it took her breath away. 

It was almost innocent, the way this brute kissed her. His hands cupped her face, and he breathed her in, pressing and nuzzling against her softly before pulling away. 

“Wife,” a pleased groan curled on the edge of a growl. 

Still blinded and bound, she let out a gasp of shock when he crashed his lips to hers again, his mouth taking the cry and devouring it. His tongue lapped at her slightly parted lips, licking at the liquid he’d smeared on her lips with his thumb. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, a tinge of a metallic taste lingered there, invading her taste buds. 

He pulled back again, his nose nuzzling against her cheek as it trailed into the nape of her neck, where her hair cascaded over her shoulders. He inhaled—deep and languorously—holding her scent within his lungs for a moment before groaning through his exhale. 

“You smell—“ he started, then took another deep drag, “You smell like comfort. Like solace. Like home.” 

Gods, his voice. It rolled through her, rough and gritty, leaving her breathless. “The oils from the elders—“ she offered

“It’s not that. It’s  _ more _ . Deeper. Primal.” His fingers twirled around a lock of hair, creating a slight tug at her scalp as he let the curl slowly unravel, making her head tilt into the pull. Rey heard him sniff again, letting out a satisfied hum as he bit out, “Mine.” 

She should want to run. She knew not if he was man or devil, but reason and logic told her that she should be fighting, be repulsed by his hands on her skin and the possessive way he spoke to her. 

Instead, her body and mind  _ purred _ in satisfaction.

His hands followed her arms up, riding the sensitive skin of the underside of her arm with rough fingertips before wrapping about her limbs. His fingers overlapped as they enveloped her, sliding up to her bound wrists and holding both of them with one hand.

He moved again, straddling her thighs between his knees. She could feel his strength radiating off him from above, the power this man held in just his hand grasping her wrists. “If you promise not to run,” he said, his voice soft and deep against the shell of her ear, “I’ll untie you.”

She swallowed as she nodded, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. Fingers tugged at the knot. He guided her arms down to her lap, her muscles screaming at the release in tension. There was the warmth of a burn where the rope had rubbed her skin from her struggles. Thumbs caressed the skin carefully before bringing them up to his mouth to press his lips to the bruised flesh. Her breath caught, the little fire in her gut growing and igniting an ache that pulsed softly between her legs at such a simple gesture. 

When his tongue darted out to taste the skin beneath his lips, the flame burst into a blaze. Teeth—sharper than she would have expected—nipped at her wrist between laps of his tongue, and she let out a shocked cry before biting her lips to silence herself. His hand found her face, caressing her cheek before rolling his thumb over her mouth and growling. “I released your gag for a reason, Wife.”

“What if I scream?” she dared. “The guard seemed to think it would displease you.”

“He was— _ gravely _ mistaken.” He seemed amused at his choice in words, remembering that there was a body on the floor of their bed chambers at present. Her new husband pressed her hands to the pillow beside her head, holding her in place. His legs slid down her body sensually, leaning over her to cover her fully. He braced most of his bulk with his knees and hands, but Rey felt the heavy weight of him atop her all the same. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her chin, pausing at her neck with lips hovering against the beat of her heart, that grunting hum of his again filling her ears. “Quite the contrary. I hope you scream so loud they hear it in the village.”

“And the blindfold?” she whispered with a gasp. 

His descent down her neck stopped, and he released her hands to prop himself up on his elbows—

“That is to remain,” his voice was firm, with an unmistakable hint of sadness. “I’ve never felt the desire to claim a bride, but with you, I  _ crave _ it.”

“Well, I  _ was _ bound to your bed at your mercy” she retorted.

“As were the others, but they didn’t stir this…this feeling within me. This pull—” his voice trailed off, and she could almost feel his eyes taking in her face in the silence. She adjusted herself beneath him and he moved with her, a large hand guiding her hip to slot her tighter against him. A lump formed in her throat as her husband’s touch lingered hot against her skin beneath her gown before tracing her curves up to her face. 

“I shall be kind to you. Or as kind as I am capable. I’ll give you pleasure. You shall want for nothing.” He traced the black silk at her eyes with his fingers before following the curve of her nose to her lips and again down her neck to cup her head, “But I ask, when we are together, we are always under cover of darkness—by blindfold or shadow.”

Rey shook her head, reaching out to find his arms, corded muscle, and soft skin meeting her fingers, “I wish to see you, Husband.” 

“You cannot,” he sighed. 

“Why?”

There was a pause, the kind that lay heavy as the heart beats against the crushing feeling of uncertainty. A deep, drawn out breath filled his lungs. And then he said, softly, “Because I am a monster.”

That word certainly seemed to fit his actions upon first entering the room. But gentle touches and soft lips that spilled pretty words fit more a prince than the villain he was painting himself.

Without fear, Rey let her hands trace up his shoulders to his face. She felt skin, not scales. There were full lips, wet and warm, that had kissed her with passion and tenderness. A nose that was perhaps a bit long but certainly not monstrous. No horns adorned his forehead, though she felt the divot of a scar bisecting his face. Soft, lush hair that she combed her fingers through, tangling in the silky strands. He groaned as her hands played with his hair, and she felt a hardness press against her thigh, making her flush. “You feel like a man,” she said. “Unless that is a tail against my leg.”

He chuckled—a light, free sound that sparked a sense of familiarity within her. 

“No tail, but there are those that may call what you feel monstrous, my little wife,” She felt her cheeks burn at that. He took a hand out of his hair and pressed the palm to his lips. “If you could see me, you’d understand.”

She tenderly caressed his face before he drew a shaky breath and moved her hand to his bare chest. 

Where his heart should be thudding beneath her fingertips, there was stillness. 

“How—“ she started, hand feeling around his chest for a beat beneath his skin before he took hold of it, holding hers tightly in his own. 

“ _ Monster, _ ” he offered in explanation. 

Before Rey could answer, he pressed her hand back to the pillow, pinning her down as he released some of his weight on top of her. His legs shifted to slip between her own, making them fall apart to fit him between them. He rolled his hips against hers, slowly, minutely at first, helping her to acclimate to the motions. 

When she rolled up to meet him with his next rock into her, that hardness that had been pressed to her thigh found that pulsing ache at her center. A sharp intake of air filled her lungs as her back arched into the man above her. He seductively wrapped her up in sinewy limbs as he groaned, thrusting again as if trying to coax another gasp from her. 

“But yet a man,” he said with a touch of arrogance to his words. 

_ A man indeed _ , she wanted to say, but “Oh—“ was all she could manage to form as his body continued to rock against hers with long, drawn-out motions. His lips kissed down her throat and followed the line of her collarbone over to the strap of her dress as he released one of her hands to find the golden tie, tugging it to undo the knot and the delicate design the elders created with careful precision. 

She felt the dress sag and he nudged the strap with his nose, lips grazing the skin on her shoulder. 

“May I?” he murmured. She swallowed before nodding. A gentle laugh from him seemed to dance along her skin before his teeth nipped at the strap and slid it down her arm. 

He pulled himself up to kneel between her legs, drawing his hands down her sides— bringing the dress down with them. It pooled at her waist, his hands coming to rest gently at her hips. The cool air hit her newly exposed skin, her nipples puckering into buds as she felt the heat from her cheeks spread to flush the skin of her chest.

“Have you ever been bare before a man before?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“N—no,” she replied, voice trembling. 

She felt his hands— they were cold, she noted—follow the now naked curve of her waist, rolling over her ribs before gently cupping her breasts. His hands engulfed her, squeezing the weight that lay in his palms before letting his thumbs explore her peaked tips in torturous circles. 

The ragged grit to his voice resonated in a delighted grunt, “Then I am the first to tell you how perfectly exquisite your tits are.”

His hands cupped the flesh of her breasts, bringing the small mounds together between his palms. When his mouth covered one of her nipples and rolled his tongue over the bud, it was all she could do not to cry out. 

He laved at her, playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger before switching to soothe the pinched tip with lips and tongue while he twisted and plied the other. Rey writhed beneath him, thrashing her head against the pillow as she felt the circlet fall from where it had been placed into her hair earlier. She felt his lips suck hard at her before delving to lap at her sternum, down the delicate skin of her stomach before stopping where the fabric of the ceremonial dress was still wrapped about her waist. 

Everything in her body felt too hot—like her very blood was on fire and blazing lustful destruction through her veins. This man—her stranger-husband with a voice that sounded like a memory—was undoing her. She was unraveling at the hands of a self-proclaimed monster, and it  _ thrilled _ her. 

“Will you give of your body willingly to me, Wife?” he panted against her abdomen, hot breath ghosting her skin, permeating her body and rushing straight to the place betwixt her thighs. His hands squeezed at her breast, pulsing his hold in rhythm with the way his body rocked against her, “Give yourself to me, and I swear no harm shall befall you. No other man shall lay a finger on you while you are under my protection.”

“Yes,” she hissed, twisting her body to the call of his. The answer seemed effortless, without fear or hesitation. Something within her seemed to call out to him, connect to him. It was a bond, like the one she thought was lost forever after feeling the death of her soulmate. If her other half truly was gone, then perhaps this budding tether was the will of the gods, to so bind her to another, “Yes, I give myself, Husband.”

“ _ Mine _ . Any who dare to look at you with an ill will shall meet my wrath. I, however,” he growled as his hot tongue darted out and licked a line between her hips, inhaling deeply as his voice dropped impossibly lower. Seductive, Dangerous, “I’ll eat you up, girl.”

Hands flew quicker than she could comprehend. With a sharp pull, the gown tore down the front, and only the black silk blindfold remained between her and the man now kneeling between her legs. 

The tongue which licked and lapped her skin then pressed against her core and slowly—as if savoring her flavor—dragged through her folds. Her back arched off the bed with a gasp that was half shock, half delight. Those large hands enveloped her hips, holding her in place as she gripped the pillow by either side of her head. His tongue slid back down, dipping within her briefly before lips pressed to her slickness and kissed her entrance gently. 

“So sweet,” his lips trailed to her thigh. Teeth nipped the tender flesh there. It was such a sharp contrast from his soft lips and wet tongue. What felt like pinpricks followed his mouth, just this side of painful, making her tense and yelp. He stopped, mouth hovering against her skin as he gently caressed the spot with his thumb, 

Rey let out a nervous laugh, wiggling to adjust herself beneath him. “Sharp.” 

“ _ Monster _ ,” he replied in a playful growl, adding as he dipped close enough to her skin that his lips tickled her as he spoke, “I bite, Wife,” And then he nipped again, hard enough she knew he would leave a mark, her mouth opening wordlessly in pleasure-pain. “Though, if you but trust me, you’ll find pleasure in it,” His tongue darted out and traced the indents of his teeth, soothing it with careful caresses and sending a warmth radiating through her. 

“You’d mark my flesh with your mouth?” she asked, a raggedness straining her voice, “Love bites, they are called. No?”

“Aye. Something like that,” he caught his teeth on the other thigh with a lovely sting, followed again by the lap of his tongue. 

She let out a moan as he worked his way back to her pulsing center and immediately latched onto her clit. Her moan turned into a cry. He groaned, pushing her legs up against her chest to split her wide, holding her in place. Lips and teeth ever so carefully pulled back the hood of her little bud, and his tongue stroked the exposed skin in slow circles. 

Lacking sight, her other senses heightened. She felt  _ everything _ : the tiny twitch and swipe of his tongue against her clit; the way his hands tensed and relaxed against the skin of her thighs in rhythm with his mouth; how his spit mixed with her arousal and dripped along her flesh to wet the bed beneath her. Her labored pants, the slick wet suckling sound of his mouth, and his hungry-sounding groans filled her ears. 

And then there was still that metallic taste on her tongue from his mouth and  _ whatever _ fluid his thumb had left behind in its wake over her lips… She knew in her heart what it was he’d painted her with, but she dared not give it a name in her mind. 

Because if he called himself a demon for his actions, what did it say about her that she found it erotic? That she wished for him to brush crimson designs all over her body and run his tongue along his masterpiece as she whimpered and pleaded for more beneath him? 

He played at her entrance, tracing her nethers to collect the wetness there, bringing her thoughts back to the moment. Slowly, he pressed into her, just one finger, but she felt the delicate stretch of her body to accommodate him. He pumped that finger, going deeper every time until the palm of his hand met her skin. 

Within her, the clever man curled his finger, stroking against her walls. She strained against him, writhing beneath the iron grip he had on her body to hold her down. Hot breath exhaled against the swollen, tender bud of her clit and with it a deep, rumbling groan before he wrapped his lips around her once more while plunging a second finger to join the first. 

A muffled laugh vibrated against her when she cried out at the intrusion. Then he doubled down, groaning in delight at the slick sound he made as his fingers worked faster, pumped harder and deeper. He lapped at her as if she was water and he was dying of thirst. The warmth that tingled across her skin started to concentrate in her belly. A spark grew into a torch and twisted to a wildfire inferno stoked with his hands and lips. 

“Come for me, Wife,” he gritted out, thumb replacing his tongue as his fingers within her stroked to beckon her release “Let me taste your desire. Let me hear it. Scream.”

She obeyed. 

It echoed off the walls, piercing the night. She pulsed around his fingers as her back tried to arch off the bed, but he held her in place, a firm hand releasing her legs to ride up her stomach and plant between her breasts. His other hand continued to work her, helping wring out every drop of pleasure from her release. 

She was vaguely aware of his lips making their way to her inner thigh again. He suckled bruises into her skin, licking and mouthing her as if he was tasting her. As the waves of bliss began to ebb, she felt the gentle nipping of his teeth again, grazing her thighs. A gentle, contented giggle rolled from her lips at the sensation. He seemed to groan in frustration in response, his mouth disappearing from nibbling her skin as his fingers at her chest pulsed with his ragged breaths.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her body. She heard the slick sound of him sucking, and then he gave another groan, a hint of pleasure coloring the aggravation from just a moment ago as his head fell to lay on her stomach. 

“You taste—“ he said, wrecked and desperate, inhaling deeply against her abdomen, “And you smell—“ 

The animal again took over, snarling-like sounds coming from him as he crawled up her body. There was just a hint of fear coursing through her now. Still, not in the way she should be. Still, something calmed her and soothe her in his presence. No, it was a delighted fear of what was to come next—the unknown of the marriage bed. 

He lay the entire heated length of his body atop her, one hand slipping beneath her, the other trailing up and down her side. He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice desperately pleading, “ _ Who are you? _ ”

“No one,” Rey breathed out.

“No,” he stated, pressing his lips to hers for a simple kiss that  _ lingered _ . He shifted, and she felt him reach down to undo the tie at his waist. “You are the wife of Kylo Ren.”

She felt the broad, hot head of his manhood find her dripping entrance. He pressed forward into her heat with one fluid motion. 

She’d expected pain. Whenever she’d hear stories about wedding nights or romantic trysts, the deflowering had always been described as painful, at least at first. But that was not what made her cry out as he plunged within her to the hilt. It was the way he  _ filled _ her, consumed her. It was almost like something merged and shifted within her to make her feel a wholeness, something that flooded and filled in the empty, aching spaces of her soul. 

He held himself steady. Though pain was absent, a pinch and a stretch relaxed at a glacial pace as he sat seated deep within her. She could feel him trembling above her, the twitching of his body and muscles silently pleading for her permission to move. Yet the patience with which he held himself still was devotion in action. 

They were strangers, and yet, his caring, this strange sense of home in his presence—it was as if her soul knew herself to be safe in his. 

She nodded to him, finding her voice still lacking as her breath strained in her lungs at the cacophony of sensation. Then he began to move.

Slow, almost painfully so. A tentative, torturous withdraw where she felt every ridged inch of him as her walls gripped and pleaded for him to remain within her. And then, as if he gave in to the sensation of her body pulling him back, he sank back within. She heard a deep breath he drew in and felt the air suck into his lungs from where it was heavy and thick around her. Then his hips began a careful, gentle, passionate rolling pace that was both intense and oh so tender. 

“You claim to be a monster, husband,” she said as her hands gripped at the rippling muscles in his back. Small gasps interrupted her speech as he gave a small pointed slam to his hips at the end of each thrust, “And yet, I would assume monsters do not make love like this.”

He groaned, his face falling to bury itself at her neck.

“My blood sings to ravage you. But you are a maid.” And then get added with a darker edge and a slow lick at her neck, “Well, you  _ were _ a maid. It is restraint for the sake of your maidenhead that I am careful—and my own innocence,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to her forehead as his hips rolled again into her, the long, slow slide that filled her to the brim. 

“I do not believe you,” she laughed, “For you know the ways to bring bliss all too well.” 

He hit a spot within her on his next thrust that made her gasp and stars explode within the darkness of her blindfold. Her hitched breath seemed to tempt him to repeat the action, pointedly rocking into her until he notched against  _ that _ spot inside her. Rey’s voice burst forth in a rush of sounds that sounded almost nonsensical to her ears.

“I do know my way around a woman, that much I must confess.” That growl worked its way back into his voice again, deep, gruff, and dangerous. He lifted himself off of her and gripped her hips. The sounds their combined bodies made as they came together was a lewd, slick slap, making her blush. It only seemed to spurn him on, beginning a pace that became more merciless, more akin to the beast she’d heard before. “I like the sounds they make. I like the way they squirm and whimper and beg for release when I’m coaxing them to pleasure with my hands and lips. I like the way they taste. Passion makes everything sweeter.”

He was feral now, fingers digging into her hips before crawling his way up to grip her throat. She gasped and squirmed for fear of what he’d do next. His strong fingers stroked at the flesh of her neck, burning trails of desire left in their wake before wrapping around her throat with just enough pressure to boil the lust brewing inside her. 

“I’ve never allowed myself the pleasure of going further than that. But you…” He found that bundle of nerves that had set her ablaze before and circled it with a slicked thumb. “You, I want. You, I claim. You make me feel alive once more.” 

Barely on the edge of control, his movements were erratic. Rey arched into him, chasing the burning desire as it rose within her, crying out and tugging at the sheets as he brought her closer and closer to that edge. 

He fell on top of her, wrapping her up in his arms so her limbs tangled around him. His grunts came hot in her ear as his lips wandered, nipping her lobe, the skin below. He suckled her pulse point before commanding against the beat of her heart, “Give yourself over to me. Bind yourself to me.”

Rey’s body convulsed at his demand, spilling over with burning passion as she released around him. Her husband moaned—pleased sounds with neither shape nor form—as she felt him tense above her. He snarled and latched onto that place he had been lavishing with his lips at her neck. Holding her tenderly, with one hand beneath her head, the other wrapped around her back, she felt a sharp sting in the kiss at her neck.

_ Monster _ , she remembered him telling her. So this is what he had meant.

Panic flooded through her, but before she could even struggle against him, he took a long, deep drag of her very blood, and her pleasure increased as a result. She was suddenly aware of every sensation within him, his ecstasy flowing over into her. She felt him release as the taste of her blood hit his tongue—rich and sweet to his senses—and he spilled himself deep within her. His lust fueled hers again. With another pull against her veins, she was screaming into the night in ecstasy yet again. 

Everything became a haze in the inky blackness behind her eyelids. Warmth washed over her, curling through her blood as her lover drank from her very heart. 

She was lazily aware of how his grip tightened as his hips pumped to bury his cock into her body again—as if to fill her with every last drop of his essence to replace that which he was taking from her. 

Then he froze. Fangs withdrew from her neck and he scrambled off of her, leaving her suddenly cold and empty. 

She could see a golden glow spark in the darkness of her blindfold. The bed shifted, his weight coming close to her again. 

“ **_Who are you?_ ** ” he pleaded with her again. Instead of passion filling his voice, he sounded lost. Broken.  _ Frightened. _

She opened her mouth to answer, but a trembling hand at the silk over her eyes stilled her words. Her hand joined his, and together, they tugged the binding down. 

Blinking softly as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she raised her gaze. The soft glow of a single candle illuminated a pair of warm and gentle brown eyes. Eyes that had haunted her dream. She saw them over and over—in every shadow, on every dark-hair stranger that passed her by in two years’ time. 

“Ben?” she whispered, her voice cracking on the syllable.

There was a moment. It felt as though even the dust glimmering in the air hung motionless as their eyes locked and held. Neither one of them dared draw breath for fear that perhaps this was some beautiful dream or horrid nightmare. 

A sharp twinge in her own chest broke the spell of the moment. But as her lover gasped aloud and doubled over, clenching his hand to his chest, it dawned on her that this twinge was an echoing reverberation of his pain. 

And within that pain, she felt a double beat. Two hearts pumping as one. Her own. 

And his. 

When he raised his eyes again, they were filled with tears. Her blood still stained his mouth as they softly formed one word. 

“Rey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not that active anymore, but you can find me on the [Twitters](https://twitter.com/auroranoir7).


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